(no subject)

I was wrenched from my bed (well, Stephan's bed, but he wasn't using it, as he had stayed up way late at Parker's party after I left and apparently appropriated some drama) by the obligation to sing a funeral at noonish. So I got up and biked home and mama took us there. It's a gorgeous sixties church with the most appealing abstract stained glass I've seen in Houston. It was sad, of course, and it was impossible to stay with the organ on the other side of the sanctuary (more rant on singers ignoring everything but themselves later), so it pretty much sucked, but it was over soon enough.

Mama then had a thing at the George R Brown, and traffic was lamentable, so I came with her downtown and then took the train back to Stephan's house, where more drama had ensued (not among the housemates. No. That would be tragic, rather than amusing). I think we're going to watch Farinelli. I'm excited.